The Gryffindor students, clutching their new schedules, began to clear out from the breakfast tables. Those with first-period classes headed off, while the rest either returned to the dorms or wandered off to explore.
Colin, looking nervous as ever, scurried over to Leon. "Hey, Leon, wanna head to Transfiguration together?"
The West cannot lose Jerusalem, just as Leon cannot lose his human GPS. Schedules could wait—Leon was off to class with his trusty navigator.
As it turned out, the Transfiguration classroom was right on the first floor of the castle. A quick turn from the Great Hall, and they were there. Probably the easiest classroom to find in all of Hogwarts.
So, who exactly insisted on showing up this early? Oh, right—Leon and his GPS. Never mind, then.
Leon plopped down in an empty classroom, picking a random seat. Bored, he slumped over the desk, staring into space.
Colin sidled up cautiously. "Leon, can I sit next to you?"
Leon flashed an OK sign.
Beaming, Colin sat down and immediately launched into a chatter-fest. "Leon, you actually know Harry Potter! Well, I guess awesome people always know each other. Um, could I—er, I mean, could you maybe ask Harry for a signed photo for me? Or, if that's too much, could I maybe take a picture of him? My camera's back in the dorm, I'll grab it at lunch, it's just—"
"Signed photo?" Leon mumbled absently, still half-dazed. Then, like a lightning bolt, inspiration struck. The car situation! I've got a fix!
Just then, the half-open classroom door creaked. A tabby cat slipped through the narrow gap with graceful ease.
Leon's eyes lit up. "Kitty!"
Leon didn't care what Professor McGonagall might think. When you see a cat, you don't let it pass—you pet it silly.
In a flash, Leon launched himself from his seat, diving like a tiger down a mountain. But the agile tabby was too quick. With a startled "Meow!" it bolted back through the door.
Leon snickered mischievously. "Colin, that cat just went 'meow,' right? I didn't mishear?"
Colin, utterly confused, nodded blankly, not quite sure what Leon was playing at.
"Such a shame," Leon sighed. "No photo to capture the moment." His gaze landed on Colin, and he realized he'd almost overlooked a key asset: his navigator doubled as a photographer, complete with his own gear. Promising. Very promising.
The classroom door swung open again. This time, it was a stern-faced, slightly stiff Professor McGonagall in human form. Leon stifled a grin, then stood up, all manners and charm.
"Good morning, Professor McGonagall!" he chirped.
"G-Good morning, Professor McGonagall!" Colin stammered, scrambling to his feet to mimic Leon.
McGonagall nodded regally, adjusting her patterned square glasses. As the rest of the students trickled in, her Animagus cat-to-human reveal was foiled, but her commanding presence still silenced any potential mischief.
"Everyone's here. Let's begin," she announced. "No need for introductions—you know I'm your Head of House. No need for roll call—I've memorized every one of you. Welcoming speeches are for feasts. In my classroom, you'll find only discipline and focus.
"This is your first class at Hogwarts and your first Transfiguration lesson. You must understand: magic is complex, dangerous, and demands respect. Transfiguration is the most intricate, perilous, and challenging branch of magic. I don't expect you all to be prodigies, but…" Her eyes flicked briefly toward Leon's seat.
"But I warn you: anyone who disrupts my class will be sent out and barred from returning. Understood?"
"Understood, Professor McGonagall!" Leon's voice rang out, loud and eager, his face brimming with a thirst for knowledge.
The other students, caught off guard, mumbled a scattered "Understood" in his wake.
McGonagall's already thin lips pressed tighter. She took a subtle deep breath, telling herself to give it time. Maybe he's not a troublemaker—maybe he's just… overly enthusiastic.
Gripping her wand, she regained her composure. With a flick, the lectern transformed into a plump white pig.
A chorus of "Wow!" filled the room.
Another flick, and the pig became a desk again. Whether they'd grown up with magic or not, every student was captivated. Transfiguration was cool. Not just turning things into pigs—turning a desk into an animal with a wave of a wand? Imagine conjuring a dragon and becoming a dragon rider!
The class buzzed with excitement… until McGonagall launched into dense, theoretical lectures. Like flowers wilting under the sun, the students deflated, scribbling notes reluctantly, not daring to complain.
Ten minutes before the bell, McGonagall handed each student a matchstick to practice the spell. "The incantation is Vera Verto! Enunciate clearly—no hesitating, no mumbling, and absolutely no adding random letters."
She paced the room, checking progress. Colin stared at his matchstick like it owed him money, waving his wand stiffly like a novice zombie, making it whistle through the air.
Leon, belatedly realizing he hadn't drawn his wand, discreetly pulled one from his locket—some old Black family heirloom, probably. Holding the wand in his left hand for show, he steadied the matchstick with his right, as if aiming. "*Vera Verto!*"
The wand and left hand were just for looks. The real magic came from his right hand, which—let's just say—was practically a human wand. (That sounds creepier than it should.)
Leon's mind wandered, barely focused on the trivial match-to-needle spell. He'd mastered this back when he was in diapers. When McGonagall saw his flawless needle, she'd be floored, proclaiming him a prodigy. He'd bask in his scholar persona, humbly saying, "Oh, it's nothing—just good teaching."
She'd be thrilled, maybe even take him as her star pupil, teaching him all her secrets, including how to turn into—
Creak… creak…
What was that noise? It interrupted his daydreams of glory.
"L-Leon? Y-You…" Colin's voice trembled, poking Leon's arm frantically.
Leon looked down.
Oh no.
What was that? It was massive, long, like a silver staff—and it was still growing?
Creak… creak…
The desk groaned under the weight, then snap—a leg buckled. Clang! Clang clang! The enormous steel rod crashed to the floor, too heavy to bounce, rolling away with unstoppable momentum.
By the time McGonagall noticed, it was too late to draw her wand. With an undignified hop, she avoided tripping over it.
Turning, her piercing gaze zeroed in on the culprit.
Leon, wearing his most innocent, pitiful expression, raised both hands. "Professor McGonagall, if I say that was really, truly a needle, would you believe me?"
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